Heat
by Iridescent Twilight
Summary: Mello/Girl!Near, excessive smut, AU, very little plot. A heatwave makes Near's hormones perk up and take notice of a very interested Mello. One-shot.


**A/N:** Quite possibly the longest one-shot I've ever written .__. actually, most _definitely _the longest. This was around 8 or 9 pages in Word, size 10 single-space Times New Roman font. Over 7,500 words. For glorified porn. WTF.

**Edit:** I've gone through and fixed a couple spelling and grammar mistakes (I finished super-late and didn't bother checking it over as thoroughly as I should have when I first posted it). If you see any more that I haven't caught, feel free to point them out to me.

**Warnings:** smut, Girl!Near, more smut, biting, smut, public nudity, smut, OOCness, and did I mention smut?

* * *

She blames it on the heat, though her logic rebels at the excuse.

Normally, she is not affected. She is cool, and calm, and outwardly unfeeling. She's the ice princess, the one who barely speaks, and people like it that way because when she does her words and flecked with crystallized snow and ice shards, cutting, though not often intentionally cruel. Near is not one for expressing emotion or being outwardly effected.

But it's so damn _hot_.

The kind of heat that creeps into your lungs when you breathe, consumes you from the inside, makes you languid and unbearably sensitive, makes your mind feverish and the intense need to do something, _anything, _and all at once want to do nothing. Her pajama pants are exchanged for shorts, her baggy, long-sleeved shirt for thinner, more breathable short sleeved cotton tees. And then her eyes begin to wander.

She's noticed him before of course. If she is anything, it's intelligent, and she'd have to be truly stupid not to have. He was her rival, even if that rivalry was something of a one-sided relationship. Honestly, she'd always admired him, in a distant way. Physically, he was stunning, and that was impressive, but it was his mind she'd valued most of all. He was brilliant, and it was only his explosive temper that kept him always just a hairsbreadth behind her.

So yes, she'd always known Mihael (even if he insisted on being called Mello), and she'd also known that his intense feelings towards her, while mixed in with frustration and annoyance at her continued one-upping of him, were much less that of a hated rival and more of a very interested teenage boy. She'd caught his eyes wandering more than once, seen the appreciative way he'd looked at her legs when she'd switched to shorts out of necessity in the heat, the longing he'd displayed. Seen it, and began to return it.

She didn't know how he could survive the heat in tight, black leather pants, but she supposed that if Mello was anything, it was stubborn. His vest was unzipped, the ornate rosary hanging down low enough to touch the soft sun-kissed skin of his chest and stomach, glinting in the bright light from the classroom window. She twirled a curl of her short white hair around her fingers, legs crossed and eyes intent. He was sitting at a table perpendicular to her own, a bit in front of her, his profile fully visible and quite a bit more interesting than the boring lesson the teacher droned on about. She'd learned all of this so long ago, there was no need to pay attention, and Mello was so much more fun to watch.

He was talking to his best friend Matt, lips quirked in a wicked grin as he regaled him with some tale, blue eyes glinting. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, slumping down a bit in her seat, eyes wandering from his mouth - nice, full lips, perfectly kissable, if you were into that kind of thing - to his hair, pulled back into a messy half-tail as one of his few accredits to the heat, his neck. The arch of it, the single drop of glistening sweat. She swallowed thickly, her eyes going half-mast as she slumped a bit more. What a time for her previously unknown hormones to awaken.

This was going to be a long few weeks.

* * *

"Dude, she's looking at you again."

Mello rolls his eyes and doesn't even bother to deign that with a response. Matt is delusional, little miss ice-queen Near wouldn't spare him a glance if he were on fire rolling around on the ground at her feet, let alone now, in class, mid-lesson. He can't help but slant his eyes in her direction though - he's been very, very appreciative of the heat's affect on her wardrobe, after all, those tiny little shorts and revealing tops that cling to her small curves, the sandals exposing tiny feet, the damp curls of her hair - and nearly chokes to realize that Matt is right, she _is _looking at him. And she's so preoccupied with it that she doesn't notice that he's looking back.

She's slumped down in her seat, legs crossed and foot languidly swaying through the air. One hand has her fingers curled tightly in her hair, twisting and untwisting the strand around tiny fingers with short, blunt nails. Her eyes are half-mast and wandering in what looks like blatant appreciation, and there is no doubt that she is staring directly at him. More accurately, his neck and chest.

There's a surge of heat straight to his groin and he smirks, his delight at this new development trumping any sense of accomplishment he's ever gotten from being second-best in the school. After all, when number one is the hottest little thing you've ever wanted to get your hands on, and you find out she's definitely interested back, who cares about semantics of who's got the better grades. She _wants_ him. They're equal in that, now.

* * *

When he gets home, he peels his clothes off with a relieved groan - the heat is stifling; muggy air that feels thick and heavy like molasses, and leather is not the most sensible clothing for the heat. But he knows he looks damn good in it, and besides being proud of his intelligence, he's proud of his physical appeal as well, and vain enough that he's willing to brave the heat in leather to maintain his image.

Besides that, he knows that Near is appreciative of it as well.

The thought brings back with a rush the image of her today, the swell of her breasts against her shirt - so much easier to tell now, with her smaller shirts - the expanse of pale skin exposed by her shorts, the tiny upturned nose and pouty lips. Mostly, he remembers her eyes, darkened to near-black with what he very much wants to call lust, half-lidded and appreciative of him. Of all people, she'd wanted him. It wasn't just his pride that swelled with the thought.

His hand wanders down and he hisses through clenched teeth as he encounters his length, hard and so, so hot, the intense feeling of touching himself like this while thinking of her, how it would feel to have her delicate fingers be the ones wrapped around him, that cute little mouth on his cock sucking and licking, how her eyes would look as she gazed up at him from that position, lips locked around him and sucking hard, pulling everything he had from him, how it would feel to have her do that for him, his hands clenched in her hair, hips jerking, her eyes gone wide as he empties in her throat - and before he knows it, his hand is full of hot, viscous liquid and he's panting in his own bed, hips still twitching and longing to make that little daydream a reality.

* * *

She's going to get Mihael Keehl, one way or another - and when Near makes up her mind she wants something, nothing will stop her figuring out how to get it.

Near arrives at school early and positions herself against the far wall besides the trees, a mix of shadow and sunlight falling across her small frame. She's careful to stand just the right way, in just the right spot - she knows Mello will see her here almost immediately. Her head is thrown back, face upturned towards the sky with her eyes shut, back pressed to the wall and arms folded loosely over her stomach, one leg lightly bent at the knee, sandals kicked off to the side. She's opted for a skirt today (her fingers twitch in nervousness, wanting very much to pull at the hem to tug it lower - are skirts meant to be this small?) and a button-up white shirt with a dipping neck, leaving the top two buttons undone, the heat being both a convenient excuse and a reality.

She can almost feel it when he first spots her, the electric tingle down her back, and allows her lips to curve into a smile. She has his attention, she just has to find out exactly what to do with it. She doesn't want to approach him first - at least not immediately - because like all things concerning Mello, the game is half the fun. She wants him. But she doesn't want to lose.

Her eyes slant open just a fraction to take him in, and she's pleased to see that he is totally riveted on her, paying no mind to passing students or even his best friend who is babbling in his ear. His eyes, instead, are fixated on her skirt, and she allows herself one tiny little tug to the hem - not so much out of embarrassment now, so much as to tease.

His eyes trail up her form - slowly - before catching hers, and she gives a tiny smile before turning to walk into class, hips swaying just a bit. She doesn't turn back to look. She doesn't have to.

He's watching her the entire time, and she knows it.

* * *

Matt's been talking for the past ten minutes, and he hasn't got a clue as to what it's about. Most likely some video game or another - he's been glued to his DS for the past three days, heaping praise to whatever video game gods he worships and talking Mello's ear off about it. He hasn't heard a single syllable, intently focused as he is on Near's tiny little skirt that rides up just a bit when she leans over, the tempting flash of her panties as she crosses her legs, still too unused to wearing skirts to be able to completely hide it for that fraction of a second.

His vision is tunneling and she's all he sees, he has to be emitting more heat than the sun itself, because he is _burning _right now, Matt can probably feel him scorching from his seat next to him, but none of that matters because she's slumped forward in her chair, languidly fanning herself with a sheaf of papers from her notebook, the way she's sitting giving him a tantalizing peek into her partially-unbuttoned top to see the swell of her small breasts.

It takes every ounce of his control not to get up from his seat, take those few steps to her table, rip the clothes from her right now and take her for the entire class to see.

The thought calms him a bit. No, he wants Near, and he's got nothing against sex on the school tables, but when he has her, she's going to be his and his alone to enjoy. In fact, she'll be lucky if he ever lets another guy so much as look at her without breaking their goddamn nose. She's been tempting and teasing and he wants her, wants her enough that that he doesn't want to share and isn't sure he'll be willing to let her go when they're done.

The thought is like a bucket of cold water, and he blinks, giving himself a mental shake. Near would be a good conquest, but she's too much of a icy bitch for anything more than that.

If he keeps telling himself that, he might even believe it.

* * *

Lunch was usually a boring affair - being both number one in the school and something of a cool personality threw people off, so she had no close friends to speak of. Occasionally Linda and her little group of chattering airheads would sit with her, though this was worse than sitting alone, as Linda only sat with her out of pity - not that she wanted or needed it - and that the girls themselves were loud and irritating.

Today, though, was different. Near sat in her usual back corner, taking small bites of her sandwich here and there as she stacked tiles in patterns across the table. She heard whispers starting up around her, glancing up in idle interest just as Mello and Matt plopped down at her table, to the utter astonishment of the rest of the cafeteria. Mello never sat with Near, it was an unspoken rule. It just didn't happen.

Near suppressed a smile, glancing up just for a moment to lock eyes with Mello.

"Can I help Mello and Matt with something?"

Mello idly flicks one of her tiles, sending them all clinking down one after another, though after he's done he looks a bit contrite.

"Those assholes sat at our table," he jerks his head toward he and Matt's usual spot across the room, "and I don't feel like makin' a big deal out of it. You don't mind if we sit here, right?"

She feels a moment of victory - Mello could have gotten any table he wanted, he came to hers because he _wanted _to sit with her, despite anything he said. She gives a polite nod and slowly begins stacking her tiles again, cocking her head to the side before asking, "Would Mello like to help?"

He hesitates a moment, glancing at his friend Matt, who is clearly ignoring the both of them in favor of his game.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

They stack quietly for a few minutes, the only noise besides the hush of the other students those of the quiet "clack" of the tiles being set in place and the occasionally button-pressing or beeping from Matt's game.

Mello goes dead still, hand pausing with a tile just scant centimeters from touching the tabletop. Near smiles, head tilted coyly.

"Is something wrong, Mello?" Matt asks, game seemingly paused for now.

She slides her foot up his leg, holding back the urge to laugh at his expression of astonishment. He recovers quickly enough, setting the tile down before picking up another.

"Not at all."

They continue on placing tiles, her foot traveling higher and higher until she's scant inches from his crotch, rubbing suggestively along his inner thigh. He focuses intently on the tiles but she can see his pupils dilate, feel the light tremble in his body. She waits until he places another tile before moving her foot up those last few inches to press against him. He curses as his hand jerks and knocks the tiles over, the entire construction cascading down within seconds. Her foot stops, slowly retreats.

"That's too bad. See you later, Mello. Matt."

She retreats, leaving her tiles on the table as the bell rings after her. She can still hear Mello cursing down the hallway and Matt's inquisitive questions as to what's wrong.

* * *

She's unsure how to proceed from here, how to make him take the next physical step. It's frustrating, because she's never lacked an answer before, and she's not used to uncertainty. She isn't used to feeling like this, to feeling so intensely at all. She has never attempted something like this before - has never had the interest to even try, though she has been attracted to Mello. Her abilities in this field only go so far, and she's stressed them about as far as she can without bluntly going up to him and asking him to kindly take her to one of the unused classrooms and fuck her already. And though she has no doubt he'd take her up on the offer, she'd be losing the game if she approached him first.

Near had no romantic illusions about everlasting love and losing her virginity on a silk-sheeted bed covered in rose petals with burning candles and soft music. She knew that she felt…something for Mello. She was attracted to him physically, she was somewhat enamored with his intelligence and fire, she found him interesting and fun to tease and he made her feel, when previously no one else had been able to invoke even half the reaction he had. The problem being, she didn't know exactly what it was he made her feel, just that it was more than attraction alone and scary enough that she'd rather just leave that whole mess alone.

The point being, that she had never felt - and likely never would feel again - for anyone how she did for Mello. So that made it special enough, important enough, that losing her virginity to him, no matter how it came about, would be perfectly acceptable.

She shivered, rolling over in soft grass to face the sky, eyes falling shut. Not just acceptable, no. Enjoyable. She'd heard the stories of course - everyone had, Mello was like a walking legend here. The girls whispered about him behind their hands, giggling and blushing hot, sharing details of what they'd seen, felt, experienced. Near had no doubt that while Mello was no virgin, he hadn't slept with even half the girls he was rumored to have, but she knew of a couple that seemed genuine.

Misa was an air headed bimbo, but she wasn't really a good liar. And she'd actually been upset over her stint with Mello - she and her boyfriend had gone on a break, mostly due to Misa's jealousy over other girls who flocked to Light's physical looks, and after seeing her boyfriend seemingly on a date with another girl, she'd slept with Mello in her jealousy. She found out days later, that the girl he'd been with was his sister, and their relationship had truly ended, then. She'd been caught between shame at her affair, and guilt over how much she'd enjoyed it. She'd shared the sordid details within her group of friends - of which Near was not a part of, but had overheard nonetheless.

Mello fucking Misa had been a spiteful move. He'd never gotten along with Light, who was his cousin - his mother had been Sachiko's younger half-sister - and while he knew that Light wasn't in love with Misa, it would still hurt his pride to have her fuck another man. He'd done his best to give her the best time she'd ever had (Misa had quietly admitted it had been), and when the relationship ended and the girl hesitantly approached him for a relationship, he'd shut her down. It was her own fault really, but Near didn't feel sorry for her. She would not make the same mistakes.

The grass tickling her neck and legs felt nice, though it would be much better if there was a breeze. She was tempted to strip off her skirt and top, though it would hardly be appropriate - the back end of the school was uninhabited besides herself, for now, especially with school let out nearly an hour ago, but she couldn't take the chance.

The grass rustled off to her right and she cracked an eye open, lazily observing Mello sauntering in her direction. She suppressed a smile and stayed in her sprawled position, hearing him plop down beside her, mysteriously lacking his usual sidekick.

"Does Mello need something?" She made sure to stretch a bit, wiggling her toes and raising her arms over her head so her shirt would lift just the tiniest fraction, baring her midriff. She slit both eyes to watch his reaction, noticing the hungry glint in his eyes as he stared at her stomach. What she was not expecting was the cool, tingling sensation of his fingers on her skin, seemingly pulling her top back down for her, though taking their time to trail across her exposed stomach. She stifled a gasp and opened her eyes wide to watch him, his expression smug now.

"Y'know, Near, you shouldn't do that. Make a guy kind of tempted to touch." His side is pressing against her legs, radiating heat. He was here, so entirely close and within reach.

"Would Mello like to touch me?" Her voice is much smaller than she'd intended, and she can feel her face stain in embarrassment. For a moment she is mortified, ready to try her best to bolt - until she sees the look Mello is giving her. Like she's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, like she'd just given him a precious gift. His fingers brush against her cheek in wonder, small smile on his lips - a real smile, not a smirk.

"Near, you're blushing…" his fingers trail lower, down her neck, sliding feather-light across the edge of her shirt, following the dip down. "It goes all the way down here. Tell me," his smile is playful, and he hooks his fingers into the top of her shirt, tugging just so, "Does it go any farther?"

The heat she feels now is nothing like embarrassment. She brings one hand up to twirl her hair again, eyes gone wide as she says, "You can check, if you like."

His eyes widen - he did not expect such an invitation - and his hands are somewhat hesitant, as if she'll rip this offer away if he moves too fast, as if she were a frightened animal. He slowly undoes one of the small buttons on her top, then another.

"I can still see it here…"

Another button. The tops of her breasts and her bra are now exposed, and she flushes again. He works his way down the buttons, fascinated as her breathing becomes a bit shallow, pupils dilating as the tips of his fingers brush against her heated skin. When there are no buttons left, he spreads the ends out wide and dips his head down to place a kiss on her soft stomach, excited to hear her quick intake of breath and the shudder that works down her spine.

He kisses his way up her stomach, teasingly flitting his tongue against her skin every so often, the little sounds she makes in the back of her throat going straight to his cock. Her fingers hesitantly creep into his hair, not pulling, but gently tugging, the soft strands wrapped around her fingers in the same manner that she twirls her own.

He can still vividly recall the feeling of her small, delicate foot teasing him, sliding against his leg, working her way higher. She'd gotten the upper hand there, made him react until he'd jerked and lost the game by scattering the tiles when she'd brushed against his straining erection, but there were no tiles now, no game that would suddenly halt him from enjoying this. He'd been angry, at first - and Matt had been confused over his mood swings and cursing, but he'd cooled down enough to see the humor in what had happened, to see the game she'd constructed for them. It was his own fault he'd lost that round, but he wouldn't do so again. He'd make her scream for him, and then they'd be even.

Near's eyes are shut now, blush seemingly permanently staining her cheeks, short curly hair disheveled and damp. She looks…beautiful, in a way. Delicate, tiny, fragile. She's curvy, though still developing - at fifteen, two years younger than Mello himself, she is only just barely out of girlhood, her breasts still small, though enough to enjoy. Her skin is soft and pale, like the rest o f her - she's so light, everything but her eyes which can be so dark they look black sometimes. Even her clothes are white, defying the school uniform - though he's one to talk, he does the same - but it suits her.

He trails a finger along the line of her bra, tracing the tops of her breasts, before slowly undoing the latch. It opens in the front, which is convenient, and he lets it fall to the sides as he drinks her in. Small pink nipples, pale skin brushed red with blush, perfectly shaped breasts just big enough to enjoy. He teasingly flicks his tongue along one, enjoying the arch of her back and the mewling noises she makes, her fingers tugging just a bit more roughly for a moment before he fees her take a deep breath, forcing herself to relax.

He smiles against her skin for a moment before using his teeth to gently nip the delicate bud, swirling his tongue around to soothe the ache as she squirms against him. He releases her nipple with a light pop, gently blowing on it, watching as the peak tightens further. He switches to the other side, giving it the same treatment, reveling in Near's reactions, and her mostly unsuccessful attempts to stifle them. She can't deny that it feels good. He won't let her.

One hand wanders down to trace the curve of her hip, then down to her thigh before sliding up again, dragging her skirt along with it, his deft fingers finding her center, hot and wet for him. He slips his fingers in her panties and skillfully rubs his thumb along her clit. Her body goes tense and her hand roughly yanks his hair as one hand comes free, to cover her mouth as she bites down to stifle her cries, the other still firmly wrapped in golden locks.

He doesn't let up on her, roughly nipping and biting along the tops of her breasts - most of those marks will still be there, days from now, he thinks, but the thought doesn't stop him at all, it fuels him more because the thought of her quivering beneath him covered in marks against that lily-pale skin that he'd made, for everyone to see, turns him on even more. He rolls until he is not quite on top of her, legs twined with hers, length pressed against her thigh through his pants. He wants to take them off, but that's not the point right now - this isn't about him fucking her, not yet.

Near is panting, her tossing from side to side, totally flushed. Her teeth are clamped against her palm to try and keep quiet, and he's never seen anything more sexy than she is right now. His kisses and bites move up to her neck, sucking hungrily, eager to leave his mark in a move visible place - just as he slips a finger into her tight entrance, thumb still lovingly caressing her clit. She spasms, using her grip on his hair to pull him up higher, panting against his neck just before latching on, stifling a scream against his throat, the fiery burn of the bite both painful and pleasurable at once. Her shaking thigh is pressed against him and the feeling of it - her trembling, shaking body pressed against him as she screams her orgasm into his skin, that he caused - is enough to send him over the edge, his hips jerking spasmodically as he empties himself inside his pants and thinks wryly how that's going to be a bitch to clean later.

The thought doesn't last long. His body is limp and languid. His give her clit one last little rub and enjoys the sound of her whimpering before pulling his hand away, licking her juices from his fingers as she pulls away and watches. He sprawls to his back, watching as she sits up to redo her bra and shirt. He expects her to run away, to be too embarrassed to stay, but she surprises him.

Near straddles his hips, licking a fleck of blood from the corner of her lips from where she'd bitten him a little too hard before leaning down to lick the angry-red wound, making his breath hitch. He realizes, just then, that the mark she's left on him is much more prominent than any of those he's left on her, and feels his lips twist in amusement. One-upped again. Losing had never felt quite as good as this before.

She gives one last, slow lick before rising up to say, "You never gave me a kiss, Mello. It's rude."

She kisses him then, a bit inexperienced but it's the best fucking thing he's felt before, her soft lips against his, the slight metallic tang of his blood in her mouth, tongue shyly twining with his. It's over before he can truly enjoy it,and the little minx is up and walking off before he can think of anything to say.

"I'll see you later, Mello!"

He falls back into the grass and Wonders how soon he can make "later" into.

* * *

"You fucked her, didn't you?"

Matt's voice is loud and incredulous, and Mello is thankful that no one else is there to hear him. When his parents had died, he'd come to live at the Yagami residence as they were his only surviving family. He'd never managed to get along with anyone other than Sayu, and had moved out when he turned seventeen and gotten his own place. His parents had left him enough money to pay for it, and while it was small and nothing elaborate, it was just him living there, and there was no need for anything else.

Mello snaps off a piece of chocolate and rolls his eyes at his best friend.

"Dipshit, what are you talking about?"

Matt narrows his eyes and point an over-dramatic, accusing finger.

"You usually tell me everything, no matter what girl it is you're fucking, but you're keeping quiet about this one. You've been hanging around Near and acting funny and now you've got a huge mark on your neck and oh my _god _are you fucking Near?"

Matt pouts. "I'm your best friend. As your best friend, I feel obliged to tell you that I am about to queen out over this. I can't believe you didn't tell me, you jackass."

Mello shuts him up with a swift punch to the arm. The gamer pouts again, rubbing the spot and muttering about best friend abuse and reporting to the authorities. Mello just rolls his eyes again, taking another bite of the precious, life-giving substance.

"I haven't fucked Near," Matt opens his mouth to question before Mello gives him a look to silence him, continuing, "I haven't fucked Near _yet._ I plan to. Frankly though, the details are none of your business."

Matt's eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, but he keeps the question of why Mello is unwilling to talk about this particular conquest to himself. After all, he already has an idea of why - the attraction between the two has been obvious from day one - and he'd much rather keep the feeling in his arms, thank you very much.

* * *

Near collapses into bed at home, her muscles still shaky and barely able to support her small frame, gentle heat still radiating from her belly. That had been…frankly, amazing. Amazing and scary. She'd never thought anything could feel so good - she'd touched herself before, and it had felt okay, but nothing at all like when Mello touched her. The only thing stopping her from going all the way had been their location - fooling around at all had been risky, but sex was altogether different.

She brushes her lips with her fingertips and smiles, still perfectly able to imagine the feeling of his lips on hers, the taste of his skin against her teeth and tongue. How he had made her feel. The rush she'd gotten, straddling his hips and licking the mark clean, kissing him. A lance of desire shoots through her again and she whimpers, rocking her hips gently. She kicks her sandals off and wiggles out of her skirt and top, leaving the bra and panties on. It feels awkward to do this on her own, but she's curious as to whether it will feel the same now, or if it'll be different, now that Mello has shown her how it's supposed to feel. She sprawls back out across the bed on her back and thinks of Mello, the way he smirks when he's done something to make her verbalize her pleasure, the way his eyes seem to drink her in, how it feels to have him touch her. She's flushed and panting again and the heat is almost too much. She unhooks her bra, casting it aside before pinching and gently tugging at a nipple, imaging it is Mello here, doing this to her.

She can feel herself getting wet again, dampening her panties for the second time in less than an hour. She strips them off, too, one hand still toying with her nipples as the other one probes curiously at her clit, Mello entering her mind again, her deft fingers touching her. She mewls quietly and gently rocks her hips up against her own fingers, before taking her imagination farther, to things she would like him to do.

In her mind Mello kisses his way down to her thighs where he nips and sucks, his blue eyes rolling up to watch her face intently before he swipes his talented tongue across her clit. She cries out, turning her head to bite her pillow as her hips jerk and she rubs more firmly, slipping a finger into her entrance as Mello did, making shallow thrusts. In her mind Mello is using his fingers at her entrance as his tongue works her clit and she works herself ever closer, feeling the coiling heat in her belly warning of impending orgasm. Fantasy-Mello takes her clit between his teeth and sucks hard and Near comes with a half-muffled scream into her pillow, body shaking and utterly exhausted.

Mello _is_ going to fuck her, and soon. The game has been fun, but she wants the real thing.

* * *

It's troubling to admit that she is scared. Mello does not scare her in a physical sense. Though he has a hot temper and an attitude, he's never physically harmed her, and she doubted he ever would. He has it in him to hit a woman, but never one who didn't attack in some way first. Despite being crude and often infuriating, he did hold at least marginal respect for women, so long as he felt they'd earned it. No, it wasn't physically she was worried about - it was more that she was afraid of just exactly how much he made her feel.

She wanted him. She was determined to see that through to the end. But what came after was not so easy…Mello, while popular with the girls at school, had never been in any kind of stable or lasting relationship. He flirted, occasionally he'd sleep with one, but he'd never stuck around after. And it scared her that she might want him to, that she might be going into this with more expectations than were realistic.

It might be a bad idea. He might even hurt her, in the end. But sometimes, it was worth it to take a chance, and if she had to take this particular risk with anyone, it might as well be Mello…

* * *

Three days and five sessions of half-clothed frantic encounters later, it's Saturday and Mello is almost _bursting. _Near is completely welcoming to his advances, when it comes to fooling around in abandoned classrooms and other semi-secluded places he can find, and while she's up to letting him finger her, lick her, rub against her and using her hands on him, she still won't let him fuck her.

He's beginning to think she'll never give in, and he desperately wants her to. He's never wanted another girl the way he wants Near. Fuck, it's _Near _for Christ sakes and she has him panting after her like a dog in heat. She probably enjoys it, totally gets off on teasing him, letting him have everything he wants except for the one thing he _truly_ wants, which is her, totally and completely. Pride be damned, by now he knows that, much as he wants to fuck her, he also just _wants_ her, wants her to be his and only his, to be the only one touching her, the only one to hear those adorable mewling noises or to know how far down her blush extends.

He wonders if he's her first. He thinks so, but can't be sure, and he doesn't want to piss her off by asking. Doesn't want her to decide she doesn't want to keep letting him haul her into back rooms to touch and kiss and caress. He doesn't know what he'd do now if she made him stop.

He's startled from his reverie as his doorbell rings, and he sighs as he gets up, not even bothering to pull on his vest. It's his own fucking house, whoever came to see _him _at _his_ house can handle him without a goddamn shirt. It's too hot for him to give a shit about the delicate sensibilities of whoever is at his door. The metal of the cross on his rosary is a cool and comforting weight against his chest as he opens the door, then stops.

Near is standing there, wearing a dress ,of all things. If he thought she'd been cute in shorts and adorable in skirts, she was downright _rapeable _in a dress. It was a spaghetti-strapped summer dress - totally white, fitting with Near's penchant for white clothing - mostly simple, with lacy white detailing on the hem and neckline and across the chest. What's more, it was _tiny, _coming barely down to mid-thigh. She'd swapped the sandals for simple white ballet flats. If she'd been trying to get his attention, she'd definitely succeeded.

He stepped aside wordlessly to let her inside, the heat seeming to double the moment she was in his apartment. He shut the door behind her, barely managing to click the lock shut before she was on him, lips and tongue tangling with his own, small, blunt nails scratching down his back. He hoisted her up, grabbing her by her upper thighs and spinning to push her against the door, pressing his groin against her own and moaning at the feeling of her heat against him. The minx wasn't wearing underwear, and was already wet and ready - had probably been planning this and thinking about it the entire way here.

Near wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed him more tightly against her, moaning into his ear and nipping the lobe, pressing kisses along his face and neck. Tangling her fingers into his hair, she yanked his head back, hissing into his ear, "Fuck me. Now."

Mello moaned, clumsily using one hand to undo the laces of his pants until he sprung free, lifting her dress and teasingly rubbing against her entrance before shallowly pushing in the just head. Her whimpering was driving him mad, but he stopped, pulling her into a languid kiss. Pulling away, panting, so hard he hurt, he plunged into her in one stroke, the shock of how tight she was whiting his mind out, the feeling of her hymen breaking causing him to stop totally, the feeling of triumphant possessiveness, panting against her neck as she whimpered in something closer to pain than pleasure. Her nails dug bloody furrows into his shoulders, but he didn't ask her to stop, instead, slowly twitching his hips to help her get used to him, waiting for her to relax.

Her muscles eased around him slowly, and she gave an inquisitive twitch of her hips before sucking in a deep breath and doing it again. Mello moved with her, letting her set the pace as much as she could from this position, willing to allow her to control this until she was ready for him to do more.

"Please," she whispered, burying her face against his neck, "Please, Mihael, I want you. Harder, please, please, Mihael, _please_."

The sound of his name - his real name - whimpered from her mouth, full of pleasure and want and need, sent a surge of fresh lust through him, and he obliged her, hips pistoning rapidly, slamming into her over and over again. She whimpered and cried out, Kissing him again, biting his lower lip and sucking it into her mouth, moving her hips as close as she could get to being in time with him, one hand tangling in his hair and the other dragging down his back, nails leaving red lines down his skin.

He slowed, giving short, powerful thrusts, feeling himself bumping her cervix. Near threw her head back, eyes closed and panted.

"Near," he licked and nipped across her throat, feeling her downy-soft curls against his face, "say my name again, and beg me to let you come."

She whimpered and opened and closed her mouth, no words coming out. He slowed farther, thrusting only shallowly, his hips moving languidly against her own. "Say it, Near."

"Mi-Mihael…please. Please, Mihael, let me come…"

He groaned, rapidly increasing his pace, trailing one hand down to gently manipulate her clit until she was screaming against his neck, red lines down his back becoming bloody furrows as she climaxed. The feeling of her shuddering muscles around him quickly pushed him over the edge, giving a couple more hard thrusts before pushing in up to the hilt and jerking, shaking as he emptied into her.

He panted against her neck, slowly allowing her to unwind her legs from his waist and lowering her much smaller frame to the floor to stand. He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her into a kiss, hands trailing over her body, sliding the zip of the dress down in the back and pushing the straps from her shoulders, letting the material pool around her feet before lifting her back up into his arms and carrying her off to his bedroom.

* * *

Near woke on Sunday morning in Mello's arms, halfway sprawled along his chest, totally naked. The sunlight through the window lit up his hair like a halo and she smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth until he slanted one eye open to watch her. "Near, what the hell are you doing?"

"Waking you up, silly." She lowers her hand to his throbbing cock and strokes him, delighting in his pleasured groan, sliding down to lick and suck at the head, engulfing him into her mouth and bobbing up and down.

They don't get out of bed for quite awhile that day.

* * *

On Monday morning, Near dresses in an old pair of sweatpants that are far too large on her and a black beater, courtesy of Mello. It's far too early in the morning, but she has to head home to get her own clothes and her school things. She kisses him goodbye while he still lays in bed and heads home.

It's getting close to time to leave and she doesn't have time to shower, but that's fine, because she likes the lingering scent of Mello on her skin. Leather and chocolate, a hint of vanilla from his shampoo. She could get used to it. She tucks his clothes into the back of one of her dresser drawers.

The heat wave seems to be over; it's still warm, but there's a pleasant breeze and it's not the overwhelming heat of before. She debates a few minutes before donning the shorts again anyways. Mello likes them, and she can make a small sacrifice in her normal wardrobe if it makes him smile.

She's sitting in class when he comes in, slings his bag onto her table before dropping into the seat beside her. Near scoots her chair a bit closer and reaches up a hand to twirl a lock of his hair around her finger, leaning into his side as he wraps a possessive arm around her. She hides a smile as the last of her fears melt away under Mello's very public admittance to their relationship.

People whisper and stare, but they always have. She smirks lightly, resting her hand on Mello's thigh beneath the table. Perhaps another game…


End file.
